On the Day I Died: Stories from the Grave by Candace Fleming

By Candace Fleming

The phenomenally flexible, award-winning writer, Candace Fleming, offers teenager and older tween readers ten ghost tales guaranteed to ship chills up their spines. Set in White Cemetery, an exact graveyard outdoors Chicago, each one tale occurs in the course of a unique period of time from the 1860's to the current, and ends with the narrator's dying. a few adolescents die heroically, others sarcastically, yet all because of supernatural reasons. Readers will meet strolling corpses and witness demonic ownership, all opposed to the backdrop of Chicago's wealthy history-the nice melancholy, the World's reasonable, Al Capone and his fellow gangsters.

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Extra info for On the Day I Died: Stories from the Grave

Sample text

The Spackle keep their distance from me as best they can while I work. Which, I gotta say, is okay by me. Cuz I find I can’t really look ’em in the eyes. I keep my head down and carry on shovelling. indd 63 18/03/2013 13:09 or cooks but one of the Mayor’s first orders was for everyone to keep ’em locked away in their homes till the army collected ’em last night while I slept. “People had ’em living in their back gardens,” Davy says, watching me shovel as the morning turns to afternoon, eating what’s sposed to be lunch for both of us.

This is a democracy, Todd,” he sighs. ” “No idea,” I say, still looking, still not finding. ” I look at him. ” His eyes flash at me. “ You are either forgetting or do not know that we already fought a great war, a war to end all wars, at just about the time you would have been born. ” He sighs again. ” He rests his head against the brick. “Not everything is black and white, Todd. ” “But what if–” Ker-thunk. The lock on the door slides back and Mr Collins enters, pistol pointed. He looks straight at Mayor Ledger.

Indd 30 18/03/2013 13:09 hiding in their houses, so quiet they might be dead. Not one of them lifting a hand to save theirselves from what’s coming, hoping if they’re meek enough, if they’re weak enough, then the monster won’t eat ’em. This is where we spent all our time running to. I see movement down on the square, a shadow flitting, but it’s only a dog. Home, home, home, I can just about hear him think. Home, home, home. Dogs don’t got the problems of people. Dogs can be happy any old time. I take a minute to breathe away the tightness that comes over my chest, the water in my eyes.

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